


Let It Snow

by checkmate



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Riding, Sex, basically fluffy christmas sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 03:52:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2837063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/checkmate/pseuds/checkmate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce questioned how his life had gone from nothing, to making hot chocolate from scratch with the richest man in the world on Christmas Eve in New York City.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let It Snow

**Author's Note:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE.  
> OR HAPPY HANUKKAH. OR WISHING YOU A FABULOUS HOLIDAYS. OR A REALLY NICE DECEMBER. OR A GREAT YULETIDE. OR JUST A NICE WEDNESDAY AND THURSDAY. W/E, MAN.
> 
> Obviously this is just gratuitous plotless Christmas porn. Because why not.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at some massive extravagant party right now?” Bruce asked, eyeing Tony and his choice of baggy sweatpants and an oil stained vest dubiously. It was nearly eleven and the party had started four hours ago, so it was the optimal arrival time for a guy with Tony’s reputation. Bruce himself wasn’t dressed up either, but he had declined the invitation on the basis that neither Christmas nor large crowds were really his thing, but he expected the tower to be empty.

Tony just shrugged and threw himself on to the couch beside Bruce, instantly stealing the cushion he was currently leaning against with a smug grin. The warm light from the fireplace lit up his features, and Bruce noticed he looked more relaxed that he’d seen him in weeks. His face was still a little gaunt and his skin tinged grey, but the fire disguised it enough for Tony to look almost healthy. At least Christmas was doing someone some good; Bruce doubted it was doing the same for him.

“I got you a present.” Tony said after a minute or two of calm silence. Bruce was surprised. He wasn’t entirely sure where they stood on gift giving – what do you get for the guy who has everything, who lets you live in his house and use his science laboratories and occasionally have sex? Even Google didn’t have the answers for that.

“You did?” He said nervously, and Tony nodded towards the tree, decorated eclectically with mismatched baubles and ornaments that the whole team had donated. It was a stunted, ugly little thing, just something that Steve picked up on his way through the market one day after trading finished, but Bruce was weirdly fond of it. There weren’t many gifts underneath, but Bruce guessed that the others would be bringing their stuff over tomorrow – Bruce’s idea of making up for the fact that none of them really had anyone left to share their Christmases with. “Thanks.”

He had got Tony a present too – two, in fact. A pair of socks, wrapped neatly in some paper he found kicking around downstairs, an inside joke he had with Tony who always complained the Iron Man suit made holes in them too quickly. The other gift was in the lab downstairs. It was tech he’d been working on for a while, an improvement or three to Tony’s latest suit designs that should let him fly for almost twice as long on the same power. He’d been determined to get it finished before Christmas, and he knew Tony would love it.

“I fucking hate Christmas.” Tony confessed after another period of comfortable silence, and Bruce laughed. “No, seriously, I hate it. It’s just bullshit for families with little kids or dumb romantic assholes using it as an excuse to burn a load of spare cash.” Bruce laughed again; he didn’t know whether he was agreeing with Tony or whether it was just entertaining seeing a man who the public believed would invent any excuse for a party denounce a legitimate reason to celebrate.

“So you didn’t burn too much spare cash on my Christmas present?” He grinned, barely bothering to hide his relief.

Tony shook his head. “About $20 on parts, to be honest.” So Tony had built him something, huh? The implications of the time it must have taken hung unsaid in the air, but Bruce remembered only too well the last Christmas present Tony had gotten him. He had engineered an entirely new artificial fibre from scratch in order to make him some pants that stretched when he Hulked out. Bruce had found the paperwork later, and discovered that it averaged out at about $50,000 a square metre to develop and manufacture; Tony waved it away like it was nothing.

The tower was eerily quiet, just the crackle of the fire and the soothing rhythm of Tony’s breathing breaking the silence. The rest of the team were where Tony was meant to be; schmoozing rich people at a Christmas charity benefit for disadvantaged children. In some ways, Tony was kind of awful for not attending, but Bruce decided that it would be unnecessary to point that out, and besides, knowing Tony, he’d probably donated an obscene amount of money to the cause anyway.

“I really want a drink right now.” Tony blurted honestly, and Bruce frowned in response. He didn’t drink much, and Tony wasn’t supposed to drink at all, not any more, but fuck it, it was Christmas Eve, and Bruce was in no mind to stop him enjoying himself on Christmas Eve. Tony saw his expression though, and gave him a small smile, knowing the other man was right. “What about a hot chocolate, then? A proper one, with marshmallows and squirty cream and shit.”

Bruce questioned how his life had gone from nothing to making hot chocolate from scratch with the richest man in the world on Christmas Eve in New York City. He passed Tony the ingredients from the fridge as he set a pan of milk to warm on his ridiculous antique old timey stove that was definitely more of a décor item that a practical cooking appliance – Bruce suspected Pepper’s intervention. He even dug out some mini marshmallows and a fresh can of squirty cream, since Tony’s kitchen was apparently stocked for any and every eventuality, however unlikely.

They didn’t talk much – they never did really, unless it was about science – but they manoeuvred around each other in perfect harmony, making even the most mundane of tasks look like a carefully choreographed routine. A squirt of cream, a scattering of marshmallows and a sprinkle of chocolate shavings, and their drinks were complete, the smell intoxicating as steam curled through the air. Bruce smiled despite himself; there was something deeply comforting about being alone with Tony, their arms brushing as they returned to the lounge in silence.

The pretence of awkward civility had dissipated as soon as Bruce sat down, Tony making himself comfortable across the entire length of the couch, his back flush with Bruce’s chest. He tipped a little of the hot liquid on to Bruce’s arm as he settled himself, but Bruce barely even flinched. “Fuck, sorry.” Tony said, hastily wiping it away. “You didn’t feel that?” He asked curiously, as he suddenly acknowledged the lack of reaction.

Bruce shrugged and looked down, a little embarrassed. “It’s the Other Guy. I still feel pain, it just doesn’t really… _hurt_.” He hated things like this, little things which made his condition apparent; he went to a lot of effort faking reactions to small things that people like Tony would do instinctively so he could stay under the radar. Tony didn’t seem to be that bothered though, snuggling down until he was comfortable, paying no heed to Bruce at all. It made a nice change from people treating him like he was always about to explode, by any means.

“Huh. That’s cool.” He said, after a moment’s consideration. Bruce raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. “What you looking at, big guy?” Tony said .

“People usually get freaked out by stuff like that.” Bruce said quietly. Tony laughed, a throaty chuckle that Bruce could feel vibrate through his body. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone else had been this close, this comfortable around him.  

“You’re not going to start this again, are you?” He asked, twisting his neck so that he could look Bruce in the eye. “You know, that ‘I could Hulk out and crush everyone in four seconds, woe is me’ schtick? Because that shit got boring like, two years ago.” Bruce wanted to point out that that was still a serious threat, but he relented when Tony gave him a look. “Don’t deny it, Banner. You’re still using the Other Guy to stop yourself having fun.”

Bruce snorted. “You’re wrong, Stark.” He said, but didn’t bother elaborating. Tony _knew_ the risks, but somehow, his ridiculous way of ignoring them made Bruce feel like it was okay to forget about them for a few moments too, until something invariably brought him back to rationality and reason. Tony was a terrible influence, threatening to ruin every piece of self-discipline and self-control that he had so carefully implemented, but Bruce liked his company. His dark sense of humour and his intelligence and – “You want to take the debate upstairs?” He asked, a smile playing on his lips. It was meant to be sexy, Bruce supposed, but the effect was ruined by a dash of whipped cream caught in his stupid goatee.

He wiped it away with his thumb instinctively, then, with Tony’s eyes focussed only on him, lifted it to his mouth and sucked it off, swallowing deliberately. Jesus, for someone with such a reputation for a playboy, Tony sure was easy to play. “I think the Other Guy is planning to lie low this Christmas.” He said, every word delivered with perfect precision to make his meaning clear even to a fatigued and frankly ridiculous Tony. “I think I can handle a little… debating.”

Tony grinned as he put his empty mug down on the coffee table. “Race you!” He yelled, and jumped from the couch, half way to the door before Bruce had a chance to react. He shook his head, muttering to himself about how _exactly_ he got himself involved with such a weird group of people, and put a coaster underneath Tony’s mug before following him upstairs. He didn’t want to have to deal with Pepper’s reaction to mug circles on what was probably a stupidly expensive antique; Tony clearly had no such concerns.

By the time he made it upstairs, Tony was already lounging across his bed, entirely naked, his discarded clothes lying in a heap on the floor. “Merry Christmas, Brucey.” He smirked, holding his arms out wide. He was always amazed by the ease at which Tony could expose himself, make himself vulnerable like this. The thick ridges of scar tissue in the centre of his chest were just as noticeable as the arc reactor there before, but Tony didn’t treat them in the same way. The reactor made him different, made him a freak. The scars showed he was a survivor, and made him human.

“Someone already opened my gift.” He pouted, gesturing at the abandoned clothes. He made a point to slowly pick them up and fold them, placing them carefully and tidily on a chair in the corner. Bruce, through a combination of natural disposition and the Hulk, was very good at being patient. Tony Stark, on the other hand, with his manner and wealth and looks, had never had to wait for anything in his life, before Bruce. If he could make the billionaire wait, he would. Tony’s supply of cash was practically unlimited, and therefore inconsequential to Bruce. His time, however, was constantly in high demand, and Bruce liked to take as much of it as he dare.

“C’mooooon.” Tony whined, watching as Bruce merely stood there and surveyed, with a perfect unshaken air of calm, the expanse of pale skin which had been marked and scarred through years of scuffles and mishaps. Bruce smiled a little and shrugged off his jacket, an old ill-fitting thing that he refused to let Tony throw out or replace, and hung that over the chair too. His eyes raked over Tony’s body again, noting the slight twitch in his fingers where he longed to touch but refrained. It was times like this that Bruce realised how much time they spent together, how many times they had done _this_. Tony knew what Bruce liked; Bruce knew what Tony needed.

Bruce lay down beside him, still almost fully clothed, feeling the solid warmth of Tony’s naked body pressed against his side. He raked his fingers through Tony’s hair, tugging apart strands clumped by dried engine oil or God knows what else he’d managed to get stuck in there, combing it through roughly. Tony jerked a little when Bruce pulled on it by accident, so he pulled a little harder, intentionally that time, until Tony let out a quiet moan. Interesting. No matter how many hours they spent together, there was always something new, something more to learn. “Kiss me.” Bruce instructed, and Tony obliged without complaint, his soft lips meeting Bruce’s rough ones in a surprisingly tender display of affection.

“Can I…” Tony asked quietly, touching the top button of Bruce’s shirt. Bruce took a deep breath and nodded, only exhaling when Tony had unfastened two, three, four buttons, and his hands were away from his neck. Their arrangement only worked because they trusted each other, and Bruce _did_ trust Tony, but that didn’t mean the Other Guy was entirely comfortable with people’s hands near his throat. He allowed Tony to help him discard the shirt, not even kicking up a fuss about it landing on the floor.

Every time Tony saw Bruce without a shirt, he acted as though it was a miracle sent from God, and it was kind of bizarre. His face lit up like he’d never seen anything like it, which Bruce supposed was probably true, since he tended to surround himself with hot young models and the like, not middle aged scientists with greying hair and anger management issues. But Tony looked at him like he was the fucking pinnacle of human perfection, which was ridiculous, since they lived in a house with Steve fucking Rogers. Tony lowered his head with a smirk, and traced a line with his tongue from Bruce’s collarbone to his navel, then blew across it. “I can think of better things you could be doing with that mouth.” Bruce muttered, trying desperately to disguise the extent to which this was affecting him. Tony only smirked again, before licking and biting and sucking one of Bruce’s nipples into his mouth.

Bruce’s eyes fluttered shut, and he tried to focus on his breathing as the beautifully sharp pain shot through his body; Tony’s fucking obsession with nipples was going to be the death of him. In, out, in through the nose, out through the mouth. After barely a minute or so, he could feel the control coming back to him, despite Tony’s best efforts. “Don’t be boring.” Tony chastised him, pouting a little. Bruce huffed out a laugh. “I want to make you scream, and I can’t do that if you keep doing this yoga meditation shit in the sack.” Bruce wanted Tony to make him scream too, but one of them had to be cautious, make sure that the Other Guy didn’t make an unwelcome appearance, and that was never Tony. “I want to see you lose control, baby.” He straddled his chest, murmured the words into Bruce’s ear.

“You… You really don’t.” Bruce gasped. Tony’s weight on his chest, the feeling of being pinned down, restrained… The Hulk was screaming in protest and Bruce loved it. Tony’s cock was hard and bobbing temptingly just inches from his mouth. If he craned his neck, he could – Tony jerked as Bruce’s lips wrapped around the head. He couldn’t move much, the angle was wrong, his neck straining uncomfortably, but the sound he tore from Tony as he licked at the pre-come beading made it worth it.

He shuffled a little closer, linked his fingers behind Bruce’s head to hold him up, and Bruce swallowed what he was given eagerly. He fucking loved to give head, and Tony loved that he loved giving head.  “You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you baby?” Bruce hummed around the dick in his mouth, whining a little at the fact his own cock was trapped in stupid slacks that Tony had refused to take off. “You look so gorgeous like that…” Tony’s unique brand of affectionate dirty talk was ruining his life. He tried to lift his head, to get more, to tell Tony silently what he wanted, and thankfully Tony had got very good at this non-verbal communication. “You want more, sweetie?” Bruce moaned in affirmation, and Tony smirked. “Well, aren’t you lucky it’s Christmas?”

He didn’t feel that lucky, since Tony rolled off him, leaving him hungry and wanting for more, until his fingers found his way to the buckle on his belt. “Please-” Bruce choked, the word coming broken from his mouth, and Tony smirked.

“I love having you like this.” He confessed quietly, every word and every movement of his fingers weighted with deliberation. “I’m honoured that you let me have you like this.” The buckle had been conquered, the belt pulled through its loops once Bruce had lifted his hips to aid the process. Tony ran it through his fingers, and Bruce knew exactly what was crossing his mind. He bit his lip and gave Tony a loaded look, and he smiled again, letting it drop to the floor. “One day.” He promised quietly, and Bruce’s heart skipped a beat or two. They both knew they couldn’t, but it never stopped Bruce wishing. Tony’s fingers were back to work on the buttons of the slacks, and they too were soon conquered; Bruce kicked them off when they got stuck around his ankles, forgetting any attempt at sexiness in exchange for haste. He didn’t do underwear – he couldn’t be bothered with it, and Tony wasn’t exactly going to complain.

“You’re so fucking hot.” Tony growled, raking stubby nails down Bruce’s chest, down his thighs. “I want to give you a Christmas present.”

Bruce tried to protest. Tony played down his gift to Bruce, but what he didn’t waste on materials he definitely wasted in time, and Bruce knew that whatever it was, it was something genius, something far better than his attempts for Tony. If anyone was owed sex presents, it was Tony. “Shut up Bruce.” Tony said abruptly, however, as Bruce opened his mouth. “I’m going to ride you into fucking oblivion, and you are going to love it and not go on about how you’re not good enough for me even once, okay? Or I will return your other Christmas present.”

Bruce gave a short laugh. “I thought you made my Christmas present.”

“By return, I mean keep for myself and spare myself the expense and effort of making a new one.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you-” Bruce started with a grin, but Tony took his hardening dick in one hand and gave it one, two, three firm strokes. “Ah! Jesus, Tony… Fine. Fine, please, I promise not to complain.” This whole arrangement was ridiculous, Bruce thought, but he wasn’t exactly going to protest, and not just because Tony was positively sinful in the bedroom. Or living room. Or kitchen, or laboratory, or garage, or wherever else Tony talked Bruce into sex. He reached into the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of lube and a condom, which he proceeded to rip open with his teeth. “You know, you shouldn’t open condoms with your teeth.” Bruce said pointedly. “It increases the risk of tearing it.”

Tony laughed. “These things are Hulk-proof, Bruce. Custom made to protect against any radioactive shit going on in your body, super strong, super elastic, and super resistant to tearing.”

“Not the point.” He said, trying not to think about how expensive one Hulk-proof condom must be. Tony was the most out of touch person he’d ever met. He slid it on smoothly, like he’d done it a hundred times before.

“You want to keep discussing it? Or do you want me to fuck myself open on your dick?” Tony grinned, his hand moving slowly up and down Bruce’s dick, slathered in slick lube. “Because I know what I’d rather be doing.” Bruce bit his lip to stop the moan escaping, but Tony shook his head. “Tower’s empty, baby. Don’t try to be quiet, it takes half the fun out of it.”

“Fuck me.” Bruce said, quietly but with conviction.

“What was that,  honey?” Tony teased, slowing his hand a little. Bruce’s hips arched involuntarily, trying to fuck into his fist, seek the friction he was being denied.

“Fuck me.” He said, a little louder this time, but  a little more nervously. “Please, Tony…” The hand on his cock disappeared, but within a few seconds, Tony was straddling him again, and the Hulk whined in protest.

“I can probably do that.” Tony replied conversationally, and lifted his hips a little, guiding himself into the right position, then sunk down without warning. Bruce gasped, the feeling of _Tony_ around his dick, hot and tight and perfect.

“You- You didn’t… You just…” Bruce was struggling to string his words together, a common effect of sex with Tony, but this time was just… “Stretching? No? How did you just…”

Tony shrugged, a smile overcoming the slight grimace of pain. “Plug.” He said by way of explanation. “Although I really don’t think I’m young enough to pull that off regularly.” Bruce laughed breathlessly, giving Tony time to adjust and desperately resisting the temptation to thrust into the tight heat, almost unbearable in its intensity.

Eventually, Tony gave Bruce a tight lipped smile and ground his hips down, drawing a loud moan from Bruce’s lips. He tried to respond, tried to fuck back into Tony, but he shook his head and pinched a nipple sharply. The message was clear; Tony was doing the work, and Bruce was going to enjoy every second of it. “You’re so good, baby.” Tony murmured, pushing up a little in order to let himself drop back down on to Bruce. The drag was insane, since Tony decided to use just about the bare minimum lube possible. _Jesus,_ this guy was going to kill him. With sex.

Bruce reached out to place his hands on Tony’s hips, fingers gripping into the flesh, and his eyes narrowed before he decided that fine, that was allowed. Tony wasted no time in fucking himself on Bruce, alternating his pace between gentle and slow and torturously thorough, and brutal and fast, so that he could never try to get into a rhythm. After a few minutes of botched attempts, Bruce learned to just lie there and enjoy the attention, to appreciate that Tony _wanted_ to give this. “Is it stupid that I’m… I’m so fucking close already?” Bruce gasped, and Tony laughed. “I’m like a fucking teenager.”

“I’m honoured that I can elicit that k-kind of reaction.” Tony responded carefully, only a slight crack giving away his calm façade. Bruce grinned, his hands moving from Tony’s hip to his dick, a thumb brushing teasingly across the head. Tony gasped involuntarily.

“C’mon, baby…” Bruce murmured. “Want you to come on me.”

“Jesus Christ, Bruce, I-”

His hand sped up, catching the sweet spot on the underside that Bruce had found in his hours spent exploring every inch of Tony’s body, and come spilled from Bruce’s loosely clenched fist, splattering across his chest, his chin, a little on his cheek. “F-Fuck!” Tony stammered, just as the clenched muscle, a blissed out Tony, and being covered in come sent Bruce over the edge, coming hard in Tony’s ass.

There was a moment of silence, then Tony burst out laughing. “That was…” But he paused, because there really were no words for it. They felt no need to define what theyhad, even if Steve found it kind of weird sometimes. Bruce nodded in agreement, the unspoken acknowledgement enough for both of them.

“Merry Christmas, Tony.” Bruce grinned, wiping down his chest with a tissue from the box on the bed side cabinet.

“Merry Christmas, Bruce.”

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't think I was going to finish this before Christmas but I totally did even if I wrote 3k of this in the last 24 hours. #yolo It's not like I had anything more important to do, right? Two days before Christmas? Nah.
> 
> Idk the title was this joke I had with myself (and Tony) that after coming all over Bruce's beautiful body he'd probably make a joke about letting it snow but I just didn't have the energy to force it into the fic so here just have it in the author notes instead. It was that or #xmaspornlolz so
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr](http://isaac-laehey.tumblr.com)!


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